just waiting on the sun
by gunpowder perfume
Summary: roxas/olette for dark ambition -- some things are meant to be, other things are best left alone.


just waiting on the sun  
**rox**as/ol**ette** for tangerine (_dark ambition_)

_…said "when will he be done."_

〖i. embarrassment〗

He didn't know how this happened; it just did. He found himself sprawled on the ground, face centimeters away from the girl he called best friend, and his other best friends gawking and turning bright red, muttering over and over again, "Is this a bad time? Did we interrupt something? Pence we're leaving them alone, now," and a mess of other incoherent phrases that sounded much like gibberish.

Another best friend known as Pence was snapping pictures, but saying nothing. But if Roxas knew Pence, he would be saying something along the lines of, "This is going into the scrapbook whether you like it or not, Hayner. It's memories." Hayner continued to babble on, unable to process much of this information.

Roxas was really no better than Hayner, frozen on the spot with eyes wide, breathing hard as his eyes darted from the girl beneath him and his two friends standing there. The blonde attempted to speak, yet nothing came out other than a frightened squeak, similar to that of a mouse's.

Unable to make anything out of this situation, he shut his eyes and will all of it to go away. But of course, as we all know, closing our eyes and pretending that everything's alright will never, ever, I repeat, never solve any of your problems. Ever. So Roxas kept his eyes shut, Hayner continued to mumble nonsense, and Pence chuckled, amused.

It wasn't until Olette spoke did the boys (well, two to be specific) snapped out of their trance like state. "Roxas, will you get off me now? Hayner, don't worry about it. Pence, hand over the photos, I think Hayner's embarrassed enough. Please?" Like a beckon from a storm, the three (two) boys knew what to do.

Rolling her eyes as Roxas sat there on the floor, staring into the space, Hayner with his mouth shut, the intense blush fading away from his face and Pence held out the photos for her, the brunette girl shook her head. Boys, oh boys, what in the world was she going to do with them?

〖ii. worry〗

The wind in her hair, his hands on the small of her back with every push forward, Olette flew higher and higher on the swing, up into the air, up into the night sky. A warm summer night, cicadas humming nosily, night birds singing their songs and crickets playing the violin among the tall grass, nothing though, nothing could compare to her laughter and delight as the brunette flew higher and higher.

As the absurd thought entered her mind, Olette leaned back and launched herself into the air, stretching her arms out wide, and for a moment, a single moment, she didn't care about the world and she flew. Soared gracefully in the air, but landing not so gracefully in a heap on the ground. Dazed at her impulsive attempt, her hearing could faintly register the boy being worried and hurrying to her.

"Are you alright? What were you thinking?" the blond boy questioned, kneeling beside the brunette girl and offering her his hand. "You could have hurt yourself, silly! Are you hurt? I—" What Roxas was about to say was cut off when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for a kiss.

Turning red, the girl whispered against his lips, "I wanted to see how it was like to fly. And you know? Sometimes you talk way too much, Roxas." There was a small, content smile on Olette's face as she saw his expression, confused, embarrassed, and blushing as bright as she was. And she laughed, "Don't worry, I'm fine."

Blinking, he only turned a brighter shade of red. "But what id you got hurt? That was quite a fall, what were you thinking? Oh god, Olette, I don't know what to do with you. You're just, so, ugh," Roxas complained as she shook her head, giggling and kissing him again.

"You worry too much, silly."

〖iii. curiousity〗

This was a masquerade, colorful masks and fake façades, Venetian masks, princes, princesses, phantoms and ghouls were all gathered there that night. Eyes glittered under the masks, an array of colors, fans fluttered and dancers swayed under the chandelier. The orchestra played a light, cheery tune, and Columbine, dressed in her patched dress and servant attire, flitted through the crowd.

Tonight Olette played Columbine among the sea of faces, her hair piled up on top of her head and a red mask tied onto her face, heavy black rings painted around her eyes to symbolize heavy makeup. Yes, tonight she was Columbine, slightly vain, a bit flirtatious, a true soubrette.

"May I have this dance?" a harlequin asked; the one she presumed that had been assigned the role of Arlechinno. Smiling and accepting his hand, they danced along the music, spinning around and around the marble tile floor. Maybe she was confused, maybe tempted, but she was curious to see who was behind the mask and looked at her in a way only someone in love would.

Her hand crept up onto the ribbon tying his mask on tight, and with a gentle tug the knot came loose and the multi-colored mask slid off his face. At the exact same moment, her red mask fell off as she found his hand clutching onto the scarlet ribbon holding her mask together.

The first word uttered them her mouth was ever strange as the name rolled off her tongue, tinged with shock and laced with slight daze, "Roxas?"

〖iv. sadness〗

Crush, noun, an intense but usually short-lived infatuation, according to the dictionary. That made her sound so dirty, calling her a short-lived infatuation. She was anything but a short-lived infatuation, he had known her for years and years, and had liked her for years and years. Not that he would ever admit that fact, since they had been best friends for years and years.

Crush, verb, to hug or embrace forcibly or strongly, according to the dictionary. Was it wrong if he hugged her and crushed her in his arms because he never wanted to let go? Because she was beautiful, so beautiful, he just wanted to keep her as his for eternity. Keep her there, just in his arms, forever and ever.

Crush, verb, to press or squeeze with such force that destroys or deforms, according to the dictionary. The soda sitting in his hand that day had been crushed when she told him. Her smile radiant, absolutely glowing as she announced the news, she was engaged. The crushed soda can lay forgotten on the ground, sitting beside his feet as he forced a smile.

Crush, verb, to subdue or suppress utterly, according to the dictionary. He had to crush the urge to stop the wedding from happening, to stop the beautiful girl he loved from marrying another. But he didn't, because she was happy, so he had to crush those urges and hide them away. Hide those feelings away until she got married, and was truly claimed for good.

Crush, verb with an object, to become crushed. She wasn't beautiful that day; she was absolutely breath-taking. Illuminating the hall with her radiance, laughing, completely unaware how amazing she was. He knew he didn't deserve her, that she deserved better, but when she uttered I do, he couldn't help but feel crushed. Now, she was truly out of his reach.

Crush, noun, an intense but usually short-lived infatuation, according to the dictionary. She wondered if he liked her as much as she liked him, the boy she had liked for so, so long, for years and years. He hugged her that day with such force that she did believe that he liked her in return, but he didn't say anything when she asked him if she should marry, yet a soda can lay crushed beneath his feet, but he said nothing. His smiles seemed to be forced that day of her wedding, as though he was hiding something away from her, yet he did not contradict. And when she uttered that I do, her heart was trampled and crushed.

Crushed, a word you use when your heart breaks.

〖v. disgust〗

Somehow she knew that she was only a toy to him, a trophy to show his power over others, a mere arm candy he would wear on his arm whenever he went out. She was nothing, nothing to him, but she let him, she let him do that to him. Why, why would she let him do that to her? She loved him; love was the reason why she let him treat her like a fragile doll that needed protecting.

She loved him so much it hurt to see him treat her like this, always dolling her up for occasions then leaving her alone when she wasn't needed anymore. He didn't love her really, you see, he really loved the girl who vowed never to love anyone other than her hero who was lost somewhere. Oh, he loved that girl so much, but she wouldn't love him back, so the doll would work just fine.

A replacement, a mere replacement for something unattainable, she was. But she let herself be a replacement because it made him smile. For just a moment, acting like a replacement made him smile. "Could you tie your hair up with a ribbon?" he would ask her, and a puppet, she would obey.

A pink ribbon tied her hair up, and he would kiss her then, kissed her like he meant it. Blue eyes and blond hair, he was almost an angel, almost. But she knew, she knew he wasn't an angel as he wrapped his arms around her, whispered sweet little nothings into her ear. "Laugh more, would you?"

And so she would laugh, trying to imitate that twinkling wind-chime laugh he loved so much. He never liked her laugh, because she wasn't the girl he really loved. Just a replacement, she was a replacement for the lost girl that could never love him back. Just like the girl that never loved him back in a similar way that he could never love her, the puppet.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she blinked, hands trailing from her brown hair gathered up with a pink ribbon to her pink dress, all dolled up and not a speck of orange in sight. No orange, because he didn't like orange, instead he liked pink. A face stared back at her, a face that wasn't her own, and she gasped.

It was all so disgusting.

Ripping the ribbon out of her hair, she ran.

〖vi. despair〗

This was not at all what he wanted to see her as, not like this, not right now, not with Heartless swarming around her like sharks. They wanted her heart, the Heartless, of course.

A cry of despair escaped her lips and he screamed, no, Sora screamed out her name. Her name was on Sora's lips, not his lips. "Olette!" his Other yelled, hacking at the dark objects all around her as she let out another cry. She was holding on, determined as she mouthed his Other's name, seemingly unable to speak.

These wet stains slid down Sora's face, but he knew, Roxas knew that it wasn't Sora who was crying. He was crying as he watched the love of his life (non-life?) screaming and tears streaming down her face and not being able to do anything. As hard as Sora tried, there was nothing the Keyblade Master could do as a bright pink heart floated out.

Her scream echoed in his ears.

〖vi. innocence〗

Hands together, the two young children walked down the street. Handholding; wasn't that what best friends did? That was what the other girls did with their best friends, the held onto their hands. Olette just didn't understand why they were laughing at her as she held onto Roxas' hand. They were best friends, weren't they?

Older girls cooed at how adorable they were, but Roxas didn't understand why. They were just holding hands; they were best friends weren't they? Holding hands was what best friends did, and this was what he was doing. He was holding Olette's slightly smaller hand in his as they walked down the streets of Twilight Town.

Some snickered at them, but they didn't understand why. Why were they laughing at them? They were best friends so they held hands, just like the older boy and girl they had saw walking down the street. The boy and girl were holding hands and talking to each other, laughing, so they must have been best friends.

On that day, Roxas and Olette saw something very strange indeed. The older boy and girl, who they assumed were best friends, did something very strange. The older boy pressed his mouth against the older girl's. Assuming it was something best friends did; Roxas decided that he would show the world that Olette was his best friend. "They did something like this…" Roxas said, putting his mouth over Olette's.

The adults watching all gasped as Olette's older sister, Aerith, shrieked, "What do you think you are doing to her?"

Both of the young children stood there, dumbfounded. Wasn't that what best friends were supposed to do? Oh dear, they were very, very confused right now.

〖vii. fright〗

Olette honestly did not enjoy watching horror movies, but Roxas did, Roxas enjoyed watching horror movies very much. She hated horror movies because they made her skin crawl as though there were ants on them and her hair stand up in the strangest angles. Roxas loved horror movies because it delighted him as the chills racked through his body, determined to find out what happened next.

The brunette girl stopped breathing as soon as The Grudge 2 began to play on the television screen, clutching tight onto the armrest next to her. As soon as the Grudge made her appearance and made her strange death rattle, the brunette clutched onto the blond boy's arm tight and buries her face between his back and the sofa.

She made soft whimpers as the movie played on, not even noticing that the boy wasn't even paying attention to the movie and was gently stroking her hair to comfort her. As the screen faded black and the credits rolled in, she sat up properly again. Roxas turned and placed his head on her shoulder, snuggling up like a kitten.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, and her heart beat faster than it had when the horror movie was playing.

In fact, this was the only reason Roxas liked watching horror movies with Olette. She wasn't prone to being scared and always, I repeat, always had to hold onto something when she was scared, namely Roxas.

〖viii. thoughtful〗

Sometimes you just had to be thoughtful of others to get anything back in return.

She would always find flowers on her doorstep ever since he moved, as he once told her, "Flowers, for us to communicate when I'm gone." Phlox for sweet dreams, yellow tulips to keep her smiling, always smiling, those were the little meanings behind all the flowers he sent her.

Blooming red roses and a single white rosebud sitting in her vase, attached with a note. _White roses for innocence, red roses for love, both for unity, forever and a day until the last rose dies._ She frowned. They were roses, however lovely they were, like all flowers, they were awfully short-lived.

Days flew by as rose petals drifted off of the red roses and they wilted away, yet the white rose was yet to bloom. One day, while staring at the white rose, she realized. Until the last rose died, well, plastic roses couldn't exactly die, you see…

〖ix. obsession〗

He saw her in his dreams, green eyes and brown hair, a laugh; it pained him because she would never be real. She was mocking him, taunting him with her china-bell laughter and bright green eyes. "Come on, Roxas! We're going to be late if you just sit there and look at me like you've never seen a girl before," she remarked, holding out her hand for him. Reaching out for her hand, she was gone like she had never been there before.

As though she had never been there before, merely an illusion his brain had fabricated, hallucinating, taunting him. But she was real, Roxas knew she was real. He could remember her light touch and that unforgettable scent of her hair. It was something almost smelling like vanilla but a hint of citrus swirling around her.

She seemed so real, so real as he attempted to touch her, yet his hand faded right through her. So real, so real…

〖x. love〗

Olette liked to fall in love, it always thrilled her as she fell down, waiting for someone to catch her, but no one ever did, and it pained her so because of that. Not the brunet boy not the silver-haired boy, not the resident jerk, no one wanted to catch her when she fell. But someone was certainly there to save her when she drowned in the rain.

Olette liked to fall in love, but it was more thrilling to drown in the rain and cry over no one really wanting to catch her. But someone did want her, he just didn't catch her. He saved her; he saved her fro drowning in her own tears as the rain fell down onto the ground.

"Olette, don't be stupid, come on. You're going to watch a cold if you don't get out of the rain," he said, and held out his hand for her. How could she be so dumb before? He was right there when she needed him to, the one to save her from something terrible. Alright, it wasn't quite what she was looking for because he didn't stop her from falling, no he didn't.

Instead he decided to save her from drowning in the rain. He sneezed as she giggled. "Look who's talking, I think you caught a cold," she scolded, and he gave her a wobbly smile, intertwining his fingers with hers and kissing her knuckles.

Olette liked to fall in love, but she was drowning in the rain and she loved the feeling.

* * *

**afterword**: tangerine's birthday was on the 14th and she didn't tell me! so obviously this is very late. i hope it's still alright. this fic went through seven hundred fifty five thousand edits and plot changes. for reals.

sappy/cheesy/clichéd fluff + angst, i know, i know. a few of them are revisions of my older roxettes i wrote way, way before.

original kh cast & disney characters © square enix/disney  
other copyrighted material © their respective owners  
text © waraenai 2008


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